


Get High (No I Don't)

by Whymsical



Series: Protean [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Relationship, a minor character tho, arthur's brothers and dad and alfred's mum might show up as well in the future, the oc is arthur's mum so she's not too important but she'll be in a few of the stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whymsical/pseuds/Whymsical
Summary: Today of all days, Alfred has to joke like that. When Arthur’s mind is quick to jump to him, and the words he’d say.





	Get High (No I Don't)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey, welcome to part 2! As with the last one, the song this was inspired by is the title of the fic, so give it a listen if you want!

Arthur doesn’t say a word the entire time the two of them are at the graveside. There’s nothing he  _ could _ say; nothing appropriate, anyway. He wouldn’t have even come if it was anyone else but Alfred.

Still, a good part of him is glad that Mr. Jones has been buried for a year now.

Alfred methodically cleans the grave and leaves fresh flowers in the place of the ones that have wilted. He doesn’t ask for help, and Arthur doesn’t offer. Instead, the Brit stands a few feet away on the path, staring further along the cemetery row. 

When he’s done, Alfred comes to stand next to him. He clears his throat. “Ready to go?”

Arthur glances to him. “Yeah.”

Neither of them look back.

“...Thanks, Art,” Alfred says softly, when they reach the gate. 

“You don’t have to say it every time.” Arthur snorts, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“I wanna.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I have money for pizza,” Alfred offers after a few moments. They’ve nearly reached their favourite place now.

“Pineapple?”

“No.”

“Half.”

“Nooooo.”

The corners of Arthur’s lips quirk up. “Coward.”

“You’re just gross,” Alfred shoots back.

“Hmm.”

“Disgusting. A deviant. Pineapple on pizza is a sin and-”

“I get it,” Arthur cuts in harshly. Today of all days, Alfred has to joke like that. When Arthur’s mind is quick to jump to  _ him _ , and the words he’d say. “No fucking pineapple.”

Alfred’s steps stumble, and he gives Arthur a wounded look. It gets ignored. They walk in silence for a while. Then, “I’m sorry, Art.”

“It’s fine.” Arthur keeps his gaze locked straight ahead.

“We can get-”

“It’s fine. Doesn’t matter. It’s your money.”

Alfred gets a pizza with pineapple on half of it anyway, and still looks like a hurt dog when he pushes that half across the table to Arthur. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I know.” Arthur rolls his eyes a little bit. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that Alfred is the older one. He watches as Alfred gently plucks a leftover piece of pineapple off one of his slices and leans forward, mouth open.

Alfred drops it in, his fingers brushing against Arthur’s mouth. “So what was wrong?”

Arthur almost chokes on the pineapple, coughing and clearing his throat. His lower lip tingles, and not because of the fruit. “What?”

“Oh shit, here, water.” Alfred passes along his bottle.

“Cheers,” Arthur mutters, taking a sip.

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“So what happened? I was just joking, you know.”

“I know.” Arthur focuses on his pizza.

“So why?”

Arthur finally raises his gaze and looks at him. Really looks at him. Those blue eyes, bright behind thick glasses. His hair, just falling into his face. Straight nose, plump lips, tanned skin. Puberty is treating him well, unlike Arthur, who just gets lankier and sharper. Alfred stares back evenly, and Arthur has to look away again. His heart hammers in his chest. He hides his suddenly shaking hands underneath the tabletop, fingers tangled together tightly.

“I...I like someone, Alfred. I’m worried...what you might say.”

Alfred blinks, then chuckles. “Is that it? Aww, Artie. I’m your best friend, you know.”

Arthur doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry more. “I know.”

“So, come on. Tell me, who is it? Mari? Emma?”

“That’s why this is hard. It’s not...one of the girls.”

Slowly, clarity dawns in Alfred’s eyes. And they change. He even leans back a little bit. “...You’re  _ gay _ ?”

And there it is. Arthur takes a steadying breath and nods. His gaze lowers to the table.

“So you got upset because it’s true?”

“What?”

“That you’re gross. And a sinner. And-”

“ _ No _ .” Arthur clenches his hands so tightly together his knuckles go white. “The crap your dad spewed is just that. Crap. Bullshit.”

“But you’re-” Alfred looks around, as if to make sure no one would overhear. “ _ Gay _ .”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that!” Arthur hisses back.

“But my dad said-”

“Your dad was wrong, alright? Your dad was a conservative asshole and he was wrong!”

Alfred falls silent for a while, and his expression goes cold. “Don’t talk about my dad like that.”

“If I lived in America, your father would want to send me to some conversion camp or- or electrocute the gay out of me or something.”

“Maybe that’s what you need.”

The breath rushes out of Arthur’s lungs. Alfred might as well have punched him. “You don’t mean that. Alfred, tell me you don’t fucking mean that.”

The longer Alfred stays silent, the tenser Arthur gets, but eventually he shifts. “No, I guess I wouldn’t take it that far. How long have you known?”

“...A while.”

“How long is a while?” Alfred’s eyes widen. “Wait, oh my god, do you have a crush on me?”

“W-What? No!” Arthur clenches his hands even more. “You’re not even my type.”

“What’s your type, then?”

Arthur glances to him. “Why does it matter to you? I thought you were disgusted.”

“I’m not  _ disgusted _ ,” Alfred says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s just- It’s just weird, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” After a moment of tense silence, Arthur shoves away from the table. “I should go.”

“What about your pizza?”

“Not hungry. Throw it away or something. I touched it with my gay hands, after all.” Arthur doesn’t even try to stop the bitterness from seeping into his voice.

Alfred flinches. Just before Arthur makes it to the door, he speaks again. “Arthur, I just- I need some time to think about it. Let it sink in.”

“There’s  _ nothing _ to think about,” Arthur spits. “It’s a fact about me. Either you accept me or you don’t.”

He slams the door shut after himself, striding angrily down the road and ignoring people’s stares. Alfred doesn’t come after him. Hot tears flow down his cheeks a few minutes later, blurring his vision. He somehow stumbles his way home, slamming that door shut too.

“How many times have I told you, Ali?” His mother pokes her head out of the kitchen doorway, and her eyes widen at the sight of him. “ _ Arthur _ ? Oh love, what happened? Come here, I’ll make you a cuppa.”

Arthur kicks his shoes off and slumps into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway.

Once she’s put the kettle on, Rosie Kirkland turns to look at her second youngest son. “Now. Tell me what happened to put you in such a state.”

“I told Alfred I’m gay. He took it badly,” Arthur mutters.

“Oh Bunny, I’m so-” Rosie blinks. “You’re gay?”

Arthur blinks back, then scowls. “Yeah, I guess.” His shoulders hunch over defensively.

Rosie wastes no time gathering him up into a hug. “Bunny, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you, we should celebrate!”

Tensing in her arms initially, Arthur then stares at her in shock. “Celebrate?”

“Mmhm! We can do whatever you want!”

Arthur considers this for a moment. “...Can I dye my hair?”

Rosie laughs. “Well that’ll be a change! Does the school have any rules about that?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then we’ll do it soon.” The kettle whistles, and Rosie releases him to prepare two cups. “You did a very brave thing, you know.”

Arthur scowls again. “It didn’t feel brave.”

“I know. And don’t worry, my mouth is shut to your father and brothers.”

“Thanks, Mum.” He takes his tea and blows on it when the doorbell goes off.

They exchange a glance.

“Do you want me to answer it?” Rosie asks, stepping towards the door.

“Yeah.” Arthur’s knuckles are white along the edge of the cup. Still, he can’t help creeping over to the door to listen in

“Alfred F. Jones,” Rosie says, her voice neutral- and therefore much colder than usual.

“Is Arthur in?”

“He might be.”

“Please. If he’s in, can I see him? I really need to apologize to him.”

“You owe him that, at the very least.”

A moment’s pause, then, “He told you?”

“You made him cry, Mr. Jones, and I’m his mum. Of course he told me. In either case, if you’re serious, I’ll let you in. However, if Arthur decides it’s time for you to leave, you’ll be escorted out again.”

“Okay. That’s fair. More than fair. Thank you.”

The front door shuts, and their footsteps head closer to the kitchen. Arthur scurries to the small table, just about managing to sit down and get settled before they walk through the doorway.

“Arthur, Alfred’s here. Are you alright to be alone with him? Or would you like me to stay?”

“It’s fine.” Arthur doesn’t look at either of them. “I’ll shout if I need you.”

“Alright.” Rosie sends Alfred one last pointed look before grabbing her tea and leaving.

Alfred shuffles over to the table. “Can I sit?”

“Hmm.”

He sits anyway, tucking his hands away underneath the table. “Arthur, I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“That’s nice. What are you sorry for?”

Alfred flinches, but doesn’t get angry. “Reacting like that. I was shocked, but that’s no excuse. I don’t wanna lose you as a friend, I really don’t.”

Arthur stares at him. “It’s too late.”

“W-What?” Blue eyes widen, and tanned skin pales.

“...I could say that, if I wanted to. You said some horrible things to me. It’d be understandable if I never wanted to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Alfred says softly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The Brit is silent for a few moments, watching him squirm. “But I don’t want that, because you’re my best friend and-” He cuts off, lowering his gaze again. “And I like you. I lied earlier, sorry.”

Alfred’s mouth gapes like a fish’s.

“Nothing has to change. I don’t expect anything from you, especially not after earlier,” Arthur hurries to add.

“Arthur…”

He shakes his head. “No. Don’t even say anything. I think we both need some time away from each other.”

“How long?” Alfred croaks.

“...A week, let’s say. If you still want to be friends with me, come over again in a week. After school.”

Alfred nods once, then stands. He stares at Arthur for another moment before tottering towards the door. He murmurs a soft goodbye to Rosie, and with a click of the door, is gone.

Arthur pads over to one of the front windows and looks out, watching Alfred as he walks away. He doesn’t look back once, and Arthur isn’t sure if that hurts or not. He stiffens as Rosie’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“He’s not his father.”

“He still said it.” Arthur’s hands clench. “He still fucking said it.”

Rosie tweaks his ear. “Language, Bunny.”

“Sorry.” They watch the empty street for a moment more, and then Rosie squeezes Arthur’s shoulder. “Come on, love, your tea will get cold.”

Arthur turns his back on the window and follows her back to the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are love, comments are life~


End file.
